


The One Where Stiles and Derek Commit Several Felonies

by lavieboheme0919



Series: Three is Not a Crowd [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Advice, Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Flirting, Cartels, Celebrations, College Student Stiles, Come as Lube, Courtroom Drama, Derek is smooth as fuck, Domestic Disputes, Don't Like Don't Read, Double Anal Penetration, Everyone is Badass, Explicit Sexual Content, Forgiveness, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Gang Violence, Gangbang, Graphic Description, Hacking, Hurt/Comfort, Interns & Internships, Jordan Parrish should be protected at all costs, LSD, Law School, Legal Drama, M/M, Mentors, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Abuse, Polyamory, Professor Peter Hale, Proverbs, Relationship Issues, Stabbing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Trust Issues, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Violent attack, forgive my translations, lawyer chris, use of other languages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 17:24:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11166543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavieboheme0919/pseuds/lavieboheme0919
Summary: ***This work is part of a series and HEAVILY references prior events. It is recommended that you read the previous installments***When disagreements force Stiles and Derek to enact their plan earlier than expected, Chris has to fix the problem they caused. The ensuing court battle has unexpected consequences.





	The One Where Stiles and Derek Commit Several Felonies

* * *

PART ONE

* * *

The sharp _squeek_ of the chalk against the board sent a shiver down Stiles' spine. His Legal Ethics professor had begun the class by writing two words on the board: Prosecutorial Misconduct.

"I know that all of you are wanting to go into various fields of legal study, but how many of you plan on becoming prosecutors?" A smattering of the group raised their hands. "And how many of you intend to become defense attorneys?" The previous group lowered theirs and a smattering of different students indicated yes. Stiles kept his hands down for both questions. The professor continued. "I noticed that some of you did not raise your hand at all, and that's perfectly fine. Many of you might not know what route of legal study you want to take… some might be going into corporate law or environmental law. These are all valid choices, but the issue of misconduct on the part of the prosecution can have disastrous effects. Can anybody name some?"

Several students called out answers like "It undermines faith in the judicial system;" "Innocent people can go to prison or lose their life;" and "Added expense for retrials."

Stiles tapped his pen nervously against the notebook in which he was taking notes and bit his bottom lip.

"Mr. Stilinski, you've been rather quiet so far… let's hear from you," the professor said.

"The guilty party walks free," Stiles replied.

"Exactly!" the professor said with a smile. "The guilty party walks free. The prosecutor has fundamentally failed to do their job by ensuring that we put the right person away for the crime. There are many different ways that this could come about…" Stiles' attention faded out as the professor continued. He kept an ear out for certain key words as the idea rolled over in his head.

At the end of the lecture, Stiles hung back. "Professor Ito," he said cautiously as he approached her.

"Yes, Mr. Stilinski?" she replied as she

"You mentioned that if the prosecutor fails to disclose evidence that would exonerate the defendant… but what if they failed to disclose evidence that would conclusively prove the defendant's guilt?" he asked.

She seemed confused by the question. "Why would they want to do that?"

"What if," Stiles began, "hypothetically speaking, of course, the District Attorney's office was complicit in or somehow profited from the action of a crime. The person who committed the crime was caught and is, in fact, guilty, but the DA uses the suppression of evidence to ensure an acquittal to protect the client against double jeopardy and allow him to go free."

Professor Ito crossed her arms and tapped her chin as she considered the question presented. " _Brady v. Maryland_ wouldn't necessarily be in effect here," she reasoned. "Obviously there's misconduct going on, but I honestly don't know that a case has ever been tried where this scenario was proven to be true. Typically exonerated clients don't sue for retrials."

Stiles smiled at her attempt at humor. "Okay… then how might one go about proving this fact, if it were, _hypothetically_ , true?"

Professor Ito raised an eyebrow and studied Stiles carefully. "Experience tells me that people who put so much emphasis on the word 'hypothetical' more often than not mean 'actual.'" She turned her head as she continued gathering her belongings. "You're interning at The Argent Firm, are you not?"

"I am," Stiles said.

"You're one lucky man, Mr. Stilinski. Half of your classmates would kill you to claim that spot," she said with a smile. Its sweetness contrasted to her word choice made Stiles feel uneasy. "I have known Chris Argent for some time. He and I went toe-to-toe in the courtroom for years when I was an ADA. I know him to be a very ethical man. Do you have evidence of the claim which you are making?"

"Not _yet_ ," Stiles replied, realizing only afterwards that he paced entirely too much emphasis on that last word, which did not go unnoticed by his professor.

"What makes you think that this is the case?" she asked. "And before you continue, do try to be vague so as not to violate attorney-client privilege."

Stiles sighed. "Well the discovery file presented to our firm almost completely builds our case for us. It's too easy and the DA's office did the job of finding and verifying the alibi." He shook his head before looking back at his professor. "I smell a rat."

" _Doku o motte doku o sei suru_ ," Professor Ito responded with a pleasant, grandmotherly smile.

Stiles stared at her blankly. "I… uh… I don't speak Japanese," he said.

"It translates as: _to use a poison to overcome a poison_ ," she said. "Sometimes you must use a shady method to deal with a shady problem."

Stiles nodded. He had already come to that conclusion on his own. "I'm worried that it will hurt Chris—" he caught himself, "Mr. Argent's career."

"As I stated before. I know him to be an ethical man. Find out what you need to find out and present it to him. When you have the required evidence, he will listen," she assured him.

"Thank you, Professor Ito," Stiles said. "I appreciate your help."

"You're quite welcome," she said pleasantly. As he headed toward the door of the classroom, she called out, "One more thing!" He stopped and turned back to face her. "I noticed you did not raise your hand when I asked about the type of law you wish to practice. Your desire to seek the truth in this matter, even when it would be easier for you not to, is the kind of dedication we need in our justice system. Consider becoming a prosecutor. It seems there will be an opening soon."

"If I can prove my case," Stiles muttered, but nodded as a way of telling her that he would consider her suggestion.

"I believe that you will."

* * *

Peter was sweating as he thrust into Stiles, who was bent across his desk. "It's been forever since we've done this," he noted with a wistful chuckle.

There were no windows to the office and the door could be locked from the inside, which meant that as long as they kept the volume down, it would be highly unlikely that they would be caught. Still, though, the risk was there and that only excited Peter more. "I fucked Derek in here," he said proudly. "On his lunch break the other day."

There was one quick, powerful thrust and Peter shot his seed into his young boyfriend who relished the sensation it brought. He rarely came during the office fucks, but he knew Peter would make it up to him when they got home. Peter loved seeing Stiles climax as much as he loved climaxing, himself.

Upon pulling out, the two men scrambled to get their clothes back on and Stiles turned around to kiss him. "Thank you for that, Stiles," Peter said as he sank back into his chair.

"I enjoyed it too," Stiles replied with a smile.

"Have you talked to Chris yet?" Peter asked, already knowing the answer.

"No," replied Stiles glumly. "I honestly don't know how to start that conversation. He is going to ask me to drop my little side-investigation and I'm not going to do that until I know the truth."

"How much longer will it take for you to get the info you need? These awkward meals around the dinner table are driving me nuts, Stiles. Your spat with Chris affects all of us and it needs to be dealt with… soon!" Peter insisted.

"I need to figure out if any money went from the defendant or his company to the DA or ADA… I'm honestly not even sure how far up this might go," Stiles said.

"Stiles," Peter sighed. "You know how this sounds, right?"

"I'm not crazy," Stiles said defensively.

"I'm not saying you are," Peter replied. "But you are so convinced that you're right that I'm not sure you would accept the truth if it doesn't end up the way you want it."

A tightness formed I his chest. "You don't believe me…" This realization was almost as painful as when he said, _As of now, I'm your professor and you're my student. And that's all we are._

Peter moved around his desk to the side where Stiles was and sat casually against it. "I do believe you, Stiles… but I'm begging you to look at this pragmatically. I'm being tugged between my husband of 22 years and my young boyfriend, both of whom I love _so_ incredibly much."

"Peter, this man will be literally getting away with murder," Stiles said. "And all of us will have to live with that… and I'm not sure about you, but I can't…"

"This isn't just a black and white issue, Stiles. There are nuances here… shades of gray that perhaps—"

"It's murder, Peter. What's so nuanced about that?"

Peter thought for a moment. "What if the victim was really a rapist? Abused children?"

"We have no evidence that either of those things are true," Stiles replied blandly.

"Well I have a _hunch_ that he did," Peter said pointedly, cocking his head to the side and widening his eyes.

Stiles glared at him. "I see what you're doing here and I don't appreciate it."

"This is what it feels like to Chris… and your _hunch_ is affecting all of us," Peter said softly. "So I'm begging you… _please_ patch things up with him."

Stiles' nostrils flared as he gathered his bag and headed out, not indicating one way or another whether or not he was going to take Peter's advice. Peter knew that he wouldn't.

Instead, Stiles headed to the library where he found someone who was in his classes. "Danny, right?" he said as he sidled up to the table.

Danny Mehealani took his earbuds out. "Yeah?"

"I was wondering if you could do me a _huge_ favor," he said.

"Dude… I have been into you since freshman year, but I wish this had happened a few months ago… I would have hooked up with you then… but I'm kinda seeing this guy Ethan," he said awkwardly. "And I didn't think I was your type… I sort of thought you had the hots for Professor Hale."

"What?" Stiles asked, unsure of why he received the response he did. "I wasn't going to ask you to have sex with me!" he said, more loudly than he intended. Half of the floor was looking at them. Stiles apologized and lowered his voice. "But seriously, thanks for being on board with that! Actually… I understand you are somewhat of a pro with computers…"

"Yeah," Danny replied. "I got in trouble as a kid for hacking…"

"Sweet!" Stiles said. "So… could you help me gain access to someone's bank information?"

Danny furrowed his brow. "That's a major felony…"

"Not the only one I'm trying to commit here. I don't want to steal any money. I just want to see what sorts of deposit activity is happening on the account."

"Bank systems are really hard to crack. But maybe if you could get me a computer or device they've used to access their info from home, I could get into it that way," he said.

"I can get their device. I think there's a gala at the Met they'll be attending. Can you use your hacker skills to get me plus two on the guest list? I would need your expertise and tech know-how. I'll buy your tux and pay you for your time, I promise!"

"Sure…" Danny replied hesitantly. On his personal laptop, he began typing at lightning speed. He ended it with a flourish in how he hit the _Enter_ button and looked over at Stiles. "You'll be getting an email momentarily with your invite."

"Danny, thank you so much!" he said again as his phone vibrated with the alert from the email. Stiles darted off to Derek's office in the Student Affairs building. He rapped his knuckles against the door frame and Derek looked up from his computer, taking off a pair of thick-rimmed glasses he only wore when he had to spend a long amount of time staring at a screen.

"Hey!" he said. "What's up?"

"We're going to a black tie event at the Met," Stiles said happily. "We need to go get outfits befitting of the event!"

"Alright," Derek replied suspiciously. "I need to finish up this report and then we can go shopping."

"One more thing… I've kinda got a hacker to help us break into the District Attorney's and ADA's phones," Stiles said.

* * *

Seeing Derek Hale in a tuxedo was a treat. Both Stiles and Danny had to check their chins for drool when Derek walked out of the changing room.

"He's so hot," Danny whispered.

"You think the tux is sexy… you should see him naked," Stiles whispered back.

Danny seemed confused and slightly turned on by that statement. Stiles rose from his chair and approached Derek, straightening the black bow tie before kissing Derek tenderly, confirming to Danny that the two were involved.

"Holy shit," Danny said under his breath.

Derek smirked and Stiles gave a chuckle. Stiles pulled away from Derek to grab his phone and order an Uber to bring them to the Met and then approached the attendant to pay for the tuxedos.

As they waited for the car to pick them up, Stiles went over the plan. "Derek, you're going to distract the DA and the ADA separately so I can dose them both with the LSD I made and stash them somewhere for their trip, while we get the info we need from their phones."

"You said nothing about drugging a District Attorney or an ADA!" Danny exclaimed. "Stiles… that's… that's a huge crime. Bigger than what you're asking me to do!"

"That's why I'm going to be the one who does it," Stiles said, looking from Derek to Danny. "If something goes wrong, your hands are clean. I won't let you go down for something I did."

* * *

"Peter, what did you say Stiles and Derek were doing tonight?" Chris asked.

"I don't know," Peter called back as he closed the refrigerator door. "Stiles got mad at me and walked out of my office. Maybe they're at Derek's apartment?"

Chris sighed and showed Peter his phone. "Every year, there's a big party for the Bar Association at the Met and one of my colleagues just uploaded a photo to Facebook… Look who's in the background."

"Oh for fuck's sake…"

* * *

The waiter came by with a tray of champagne flutes. Derek finished his with two large gulps. It was his love for Stiles that drove his cooperation with this plan, which he was pretty certain would land him in jail. He hoped Chris would represent him in court after hearing what they were up to when they got arrested.

"See the really severe looking woman who is acting like everyone and everything is beneath her?" Stiles asked softly.

"Yeah," Derek said.

"That's Araya Calavera. She's the District Attorney," Stiles told them. He then nodded his head across the room. "And that really cute guy with the eyebrows that make you wanna punch him in the face? That's Jordan Parrish, the ADA who's prosecuting the case."

"He looks about as pure and innocent as anyone _can_ be," Derek noted. "There's no way he's in on this."

"Only one way to find out," Stiles said. "Go get 'em, big guy!"

"Blowjobs don't even begin to cover what you'll owe me after this, Stiles…"

"I'll do any depraved act you want if we pull this off," Stiles promised him.

"Can I get in on that?" Danny asked.

Derek rolled his eyes and headed toward the man who seemed to exude happiness and positivity with a nearly tangible aura. He turned on the legendary Hale charm and flashed a smile that caught the man's eye. "Hi," he said flirtatiously. "I don't think we've had a chance to meet just yet. My name is Derek Hale."

"I'm Jordan Parrish. I don't know that I've ever seen you at one of these events before… I'd remember that face," he said.

Derek smirked. "Do you maybe want to go somewhere a little more private so we can talk?"

"That's very forward of you, Mr. Hale," he said with a smile.

"Life's too short to not go after what you want," Derek replied, leading him away from the gala toward the classroom area on the ground floor. Stiles and Danny carefully followed behind him.

"Derek, now!" Stiles said in a hushed yell. Immediately, Derek spun around, grabbing both of Jordan's arms and pinning them before swiping his legs from under him so that he was forced to his knees. Stiles took out a dropper and with one hand, held Jordan's eyes open and forced several drops of LSD into each eye. He howled in pain. The three of them forced him into a classroom, knowing that the trip was going to hit him in a matter of moments.

Stiles fished the phone out of his pocket. "I'm really sorry for this," he told Jordan. "Really, I am."

They headed into one of the other rooms with a computer. Danny plugged the phone in and set to work. After a few minutes, he shook his head. "There's nothing here, Stiles. He's kinda broke, to be honest. If there is a plot, he's not part of it… wait… look at this!" Danny pointed to a spot on the screen. It was an email thread between Jordan and District Attorney Calavera. "He thought there was something weird about the evidence handed over to The Argent Firm. He says there's a set of phone records that went missing as well as video surveillance footage that should have made it a slam dunk case for the prosecution."

"What does Calavera say?" Derek asked.

"She says the evidence never existed and that he needs to prosecute the case with the evidence he has available," Stiles said, reading aloud. "And he responded with the evidence serial numbers and photos that were taken of the missing pieces of evidence."

"He tried to do the right thing," Derek observed.

"And Araya Calavera might be the one behind this. We've got to get her," Stiles said, turning toward the door of the room. When he opened it, he stopped.

"Stiles, what the _fuck_ are you doing?" Chris demanded angrily. Peter stood behind him, his face unreadable.

"Chris, there really _is_ a plot to get Aren Treadwell acquitted. The District Attorney is part of it," Derek said, knowing that it would sound more convincing if it came from him instead of Stiles.

"And what is to be said of the ADA you have bound and gagged and tripping balls in the classroom across the hall?" Chris demanded. "When I opened the door and asked him if he was alright, he said I was a dragon and my words were burning him."

"He was innocent…" Stiles admitted. "But he was the easiest to get started with… If we can just get Araya's phone, we can prove all of it."

"This. Ends. _Now_!" Chris snarled.

"Chris, you wanted me to be able to prove what I thought, I can prove it. I _did_ prove it! Aren Treadwell is guilty and the DA's office is trying to cover it up," Stiles said.

"Whether it's true or not, the way you got that information is illegal and inadmissible in court. You are, at this point, guilty of false imprisonment and assault. These charges are both  _felonies_ , Stiles!" Chris said. He was so angry he was shaking.

"Then how do we fix it, Chris?" Peter asked, placing a hand on his husband's shoulder. "The fact of the matter is that we know the truth now. How to we make it so it's useable in court and get Stiles, Derek, and their friend out of hot water? Anger isn't going to fix what's already done."

"We need the ADA's permission to submit it to the judge," Chris said. "But it's not likely that he's going to give us that permission considering what they did to him."

"Okay, how do we get that permission?" Peter asked.

"We use the fact that he's tripping to our advantage now. We call an ambulance and tell them that someone spiked his drink. I'll stay with him at the hospital and help him fill in the blanks when he comes down. I'll tell him that he imagined what you guys did to him and that during his trip, he mentioned Araya Calavera's actions," Chris said. "Give me his phone and go back to the party. Make sure you're seen having fun… take some pictures with one another, then make sure you're seen leaving. Separately."

* * *

Peter, Derek, and Stiles each took separate cabs to the university, where Peter's car was parked. They made it all the way back to the house on Long Island before anyone said anything. "I can't believe you guys did that," Peter said. "The position you put Chris in… this could have gotten him disbarred or worse."

"Peter, please don't act like you weren't turning your head and looking the other way," Stiles retorted. "You knew what I was planning and I believe your exact words were ' _What you do when the lab is accidentally left unlocked overnight is, well, beyond my control._ ' Isn't that what you said verbatim?"

"And I asked you today to just let it go so that we can restore some sense of peace here," Peter said. He was pacing back and forth like a caged wolf, his eyes filled with rage. "He was going to talk to you and tell you how ungrateful your actions were after everything he'd done for you and I begged him not to."

"Why?" Stiles demanded.

"Because nothing that we've ever done for you was done with the expectation of repayment. It was because we love you," Peter said. He stopped pacing and his voice dropped. "When I was with Duke, every once in awhile, he'd do something nice for me… take me to a movie, buy me dinner, sometimes it was simply him giving me a blowjob. Every nice thing he did had a huge price tag, and it usually came around something awful… like fucking me so hard that Chris had to take me to the hospital or slamming me against a wall and giving me a concussion. I begged Chris not to say those words because suddenly it made our years of love and commitment to you seem as though there was an agenda and I couldn't do that."

Stiles slumped into his chair. "I'm sorry, Peter," Stiles said, "And I'm grateful that he's helping me clean this mess up, but if he had listened to me to begin with… if he had trusted me the way Derek did, it wouldn't have had to escalate like it did."

"Stiles, take responsibility for what you did. Yes, Chris came to your rescue, but he shouldn't have needed to in the first place," Peter growled. "What he's doing right now is such a severe degree of illegal that I don't think you can even comprehend it."

"I'm going to bed," Derek sighed and turned to leave the room.

"No. None of us sleep until Chris is back. In the meantime, we get our stories straight in case we're questioned," Peter said sternly. "And none of us speak to police without Chris present. Understood?"

The official story they were going with was that Derek noticed that Jordan was acting strange and followed him. Stiles and Danny came to check on Derek after seeing him go off with someone they didn't recognize. Jordan was trying to hurt himself, so they found Chris, who called for emergency help and bound him to keep him from doing any harm to himself or someone else. According to the story, the three of them went back to join the gala because the LSD was making Jordan afraid of them. After drinking a bit too much, they all left.

They each rehearsed the story until they were almost convinced of it. Stiles and Derek were nearly delirious from exhaustion. It was around 8:00 AM when Chris finally walked through the door, his face was completely unreadable. His eyes rested on Stiles before he shook his head and mounted the stairs. Peter followed him. Stiles curled up against Derek on the couch, and a few moments after closing his eyes, he was out cold.

They all woke up around sunset that day. Peter ordered pizza and Chris asked Stiles to come to his bedroom to talk. Stiles sat on the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms around them. Though he had slept all day, he still felt exhausted. Chris sat on the bed beside him. "I wanted to wait until I cooled down before we spoke," Chris said. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you. You were right, the DA was paid by Treadwell to suppress evidence and Jordan is willing to work with us to prove it. But you must understand that we are _damn_ lucky that he fell for my story."

"I know I got a bit carried away—" Stiles began, but Chris cut him off.

"A bit?" he demanded. "Stiles, you dosed an ADA with LSD and illegally hacked into his personal phone."

"Chris, I'm sorry…" Stiles said, his voice cracking. He finally broke down.

Chris moved closer and wrapped his arms around Stiles, letting the boy cry against his shoulder. "I know… I know…" he murmured, rubbing Stiles' back. "Please just promise me that you will never do this again and I will promise you that if you come to me in the future and tell me that something seems fishy, I'll believe you the first time."

"Thank you for helping me," Stiles said after a few minutes, "Even though I didn't deserve it."

"You're young. You made a mistake, but learn from it and don't _ever_ repeat it," Chris said, continuing to rub his young boyfriend's back soothingly. "I would do anything for you, Stiles. You know that right? I love you."

"Will you just hold me?" he asked softly. His voice sounded strained due to the lump in his throat. He hated crying and he hated when people saw him cry.

"Sure," Chris said. The two of them leaned back onto the bed. Chris had his arms tightly against Stiles, pulling him against his bare chest. Stiles was still clothed, but nestled as close as he could, finding comfort in his boyfriend's warmth.

* * *

"I don't hear any shouting," Derek said as he rinsed out his glass and put his plate in the dishwasher.

"Chris really isn't the shouting type. He's more of the talk-it-out type. I've only heard him shout out of anger a few times and that was always about a situation, not a person," Peter replied.

"Are they going to be alright?" Derek asked.

"Yeah," said Peter. "I have no doubts about that."

Derek moved to Peter's lap and buried his face in his uncle's neck. His cologne still clung subtly to his skin from the night before. "You smell so good," he growled lustfully. His hand traced around his uncle's nipples as his lips moved from Peter's neck, along his jaw to his lips where they connected to his uncle's soft, supple lips.

Peter laughed when their kiss broke. "Your beard tickles," he said.

"And when I'm blowing you, your pubes tickle… but I do it anyway because I love you," Derek laughed in response.

"You don't just do it because you love me… part of it is because you love sucking my dick," Peter corrected.

Derek nodded. "Yeah, it's true." He climbed off of Peter's lap and sank to his knees in front of Peter, who got naked. Derek pulled his clothes off, too, and took Peter in his hand, lowering his mouth to Peter's dick, stretching his lips around it.

"Ah fuck!" Peter moaned as Derek got him into the back of his throat. His hips involuntarily bucked up as he fucked into his nephew's mouth. "You feel so good, Derek… keep going…" Derek ran his tongue around the head, giving Peter one of the best blowjobs he'd ever gotten. "I haven't come since yesterday, so I might be a little quick on the draw at first," he warned.

"You can go as many times as you need," Derek replied before returning to his task.

"I'm being selfish," Peter said. "Let's get into a better position." He pulled Derek up to his feet and grabbed his hand, leading him upstairs to his bedroom. "Get on the bed. I'll be there in a second." He crept a door down the hallway and peeked in. He saw his husband calmly rubbing Stiles' back. Stiles was so still he had to be sleeping. Peter smiled, knowing that this meant they had made up. He went back to his bedroom where Derek was lying on his back on top of the covers, stroking himself.

"What are they doing?" Derek asked as Peter sauntered into the room, his erect member swinging ahead of him. He took the sight in with a primal hunger. He had become accustomed to his uncle's nude form. He was certain that his fingers and tongue had traced every square inch of Peter. He had performed at least one sex act on his uncle every day since their first time together, when he confessed his life-long crush on this sexy older man who looked like him. He did it not because Peter wanted it, but because Derek, himself, _needed_ it. He loved this man. He loved Peter in a way no nephew should love his uncle, but all hesitation faded away when their lips met, or their hands touched, or when Derek spread his legs and let his uncle enter his body.

"Cuddling," Peter replied, climbing onto the bed. He started at Derek's feet, sucking on his nephew's big toe before kissing and nibbling his way up Derek's leg until he arrived at the large erection. "Wanna learn why I got us kicked out of our first hotel on our honeymoon?"

"What are you talking abou—" Derek began, but stopped as Peter took him in his mouth and began performing the most exquisite blowjob he'd ever received. Peter had blown him before but it was nothing compared to this. Derek's hand reached up to the headboard as he lost his ability to speak, resulting in an intelligible combination of consonants spilling from his mouth. Only when Peter was forced to come up for air was Derek able to say anything. "I don't wanna come just yet…"

"Let's do something else, then," Peter said, reaching over into his bedside table and grabbed the lube, working some into Derek and then covering his own cock. He used a considerable amount of strength to flip Derek over and pull him onto all fours. Peter got into a crouching position behind him, pushing inside with one long thrust. Both Hale men thoroughly enjoyed this.

Derek let out a loud moan. " _Fuck yes!_ Uncle Peter… Keep going!" He urged Peter to go harder and faster, knowing that addressing him like that tended to result in Peter doing just that.

Chris appeared at the doorway chuckling. "I leave you two alone for half an hour and you inevitably end up balls-deep in your nephew. What am I going to do with you two?"

"Join in," Peter suggested.

"But then we'd be leaving Stiles out and how is that fair?" Chris asked.

"Wake him up," Peter said, not stopping his thrusts. "He'd rather do this than sleep, you know."

"Who started an orgy without me?" Stiles asked with a groggy voice.

"He's here! See… now the fun can really begin," Derek said between his moans from Peter's continued fucking.

"You're not having fun?" Peter asked, sounding disappointed.

"I didn't say that," Derek grunted as Peter pulled out. Chris climbed onto the bed and held his cock straight up. Derek took the hint and quickly lowered himself onto it, fucking himself on his other uncle and staring into those paralyzing blue eyes. Peter sidled up behind his nephew and pushed him down against his husband's body.

Derek felt the increased pressure behind him. Chris noticed the look of panic and caressed his cheek. "Don't worry… if it's too much, say so… we do this with Stiles quite a bit."

Derek grimaced and groaned as Peter slipped in, stretching him far beyond anything he had ever felt before. He now had both of his uncles inside him. Peter eased further and further in, prompting Derek to let out sharp breaths.

"Are you alright?" Peter asked.

"Yeah," Derek grunted. "Keep going…" Once Peter was all the way inside, he paused, giving his nephew time to adjust to the new sensation. " _Fuck!_ This is intense!"

"Any room for me?" Stiles asked.

"Not in my ass," Derek replied. All of them laughed.

"But there are three mouths over here that could help you out," Chris said. Stiles climbed onto the bed. Derek opened his mouth and Stiles accepted the invitation.

"You've got all three of our dicks in you, Der," Peter said. "What's that feel like?"

With Stiles' dick still in his mouth, Derek mumbled something that sounded somewhere between "fucking great" and "subway freight." Stiles assumed it was the former. He glanced over as Peter started rolling his hips. Chris worked alongside him, both fucking Derek in a way that hit his prostate with every movement. He lost his concentration as their pace picked up and Stiles' dick slipped out of his mouth, hitting Chris in the face. Chris chuckled, but ultimately used his hand to guide it into his own mouth.

Derek's voice became higher and higher-pitched as he repeated his uncles' names over and over until his climax ripped through his body with the power and magnitude of Krakatoa. His cock, which was trapped between his and Chris' torsos erupted with more come than Derek ever remembered producing. Derek set off a chain reaction. First Chris, then Peter, both of them shooting deep into Derek.

Peter, who didn't have a refractory period, immediately pulled out, causing Chris to slip out as well, but Derek reached behind himself and guided his other uncle back inside. Peter grabbed Stiles by the leg and pulled him down, kissing him with intense passion when their lips were close enough. His cock was still covered in the come from Derek's ass, but Peter pressed it inside Stiles and immediately worked up to the rapid pace they preferred to use together.

By the time the night was over, Stiles and Derek had taken turns getting fucked by Peter and Chris (and each other once or twice). The sheets were nigh ruined and the three of them were covered in each other's sweat and semen. The room rank of sex and testosterone. The four of them dozed off in one another's arms, Peter and Chris on the outside and Stiles and Derek between them.

Harmony had finally returned to the house.

* * *

PART TWO

* * *

The clank of the gavel resounded throughout the courthouse as Stiles took his seat at the defendant's table next to Chris. He felt slimy being in such close proximity to someone he knew to be a murderer. Jordan remained standing behind the prosecution's table, a string of folders organized neatly. The judge, a man named Alan Deaton, had a long history with Chris going all the way back to law school.

"We are here today in the matter of State of New York v. Aren Treadwell," Judge Deaton announced to the court. "Have the witnesses been sworn in?"

The bailiff leaned forward, "Yes sir, they have."

"Good! Let the record show that all present in the case have been sworn in. For the state we have Assistant District Attorney Jordan Parrish. Representing the defense is Chris Argent and… young man, what is your name?"

"Mieczyslaw Stilinski, your honor," Stiles replied. "But you can call me Stiles."

"And who are you?" Judge Deaton asked.

"He's a law student interning for my firm, your honor," said Chris. "The defendant has agreed to allow him to be present on the case and, indeed, he has been integral as part of our research team."

"Alright, Mr. Parrish, you can call your first witness," Judge Deaton said.

Jordan immediately rose. "Your Honor, the State calls for a mistrial," he said.

"On what grounds?" Deaton asked.

"On the grounds that this may impede the defendant's right to a fair trial," Jordan replied assuredly.

"This is rather unusual, Mr. Parrish, you understand that?" said the judge before looking to Chris, who stood.

"Your Honor, the defense agrees with this assessment. If we may approach the bench," Chris began, but the judge cut him off. He had known Chris long enough that no further explanation was needed. He nodded his assent.

"What is this about?" Deaton asked in a low voice.

"This might be one that we need to discuss in your chambers, to be honest," Chris said.

Deaton nodded again and addressed the court. "There will be a ten-minute recess and the council for both sides will meet with me in my chambers, please." He banged the gavel as a murmur swept through the court. This was a high-profile case and it was off to a very unorthodox beginning. The two lawyers and Stiles followed the judge into his chambers. Deaton cast a confused glance at Stiles. "Is there a reason he's here?"

"My research assistant discovered some irregularities with the discovery file sent over by the DA's office," Chris said.

Deaton arched an eyebrow as his gaze moved to Jordan.

"Argent brought it up to me and upon checking the record, it seems that some crucial evidence simply disappeared," the prosecutor said.

"Then you prosecute the case with the evidence you have. Why are you wasting my time with this recess?"

"Sir, we have fairly conclusive evidence that Araya Calavera accepted a large sum of money to throw the case and ensure an acquittal for my client. She tampered with the evidence that would have ensured a unanimous guilty verdict for my client," Chris said. "In investigating this evidence, it became abundantly clear that if I put my client on the stand, it will either result in a violation of his Fifth Amendment rights against self-incrimination or he will be committing perjury. Obviously, neither of these are acceptable."

"What is this evidence?"

Both Chris and Jordan deferred to Stiles. "Sir, are you familiar with decentralized cryptocurrencies?" Deaton shook his head, so Stiles continued. "It's an encrypted currency that exists only online. In this particular case, the money was paid by use of bitcoin. The issue is that bitcoins... well, they're extremely trackable, and we were able to find that almost immediately after Vincent Meeks died under suspicious circumstances, Mr. Treadwell gained control of his stocks, giving him 83% of the company stock in total. He liquidated enough to still retain majority control, used that money to buy bitcoins and then paid those bitcoins to the District Attorney. Calavera has been slowly converting those bitcoins into cash, but each bitcoin is worth almost $3,000 US dollars right now."

"How many bitcoins did she receive from Treadwell?" Deaton asked.

Chris pulled a file out of his briefcase and handed it to the judge. "One hundred and seventy-five to be exact."

Jordan added, "There's also sufficient evidence to prove that the defendant was using bitcoin to launder money from several cartels operating in Central America and Mexico and trafficking drugs into New York with virtual immunity thanks to Calavera."

"Money laundering with bitcoin is really dumb," Stiles added. "Particularly such a large amount."

"Well, in light of everything you've presented, I don't see that I have much of a choice. Though, Chris, this is the most bizarre thing I've ever heard of a defense lawyer doing. Your job is going to be so much more difficult when this goes back to trial," Deaton said.

"Oh, The Argent Firm will not be representing him after today," Chris assured him.

* * *

"To Stiles!" Peter, Chris, and Derek all cheered, raising their glasses in his direction.

Stiles blushed a deep shade of crimson everyone in the bar turned to look his way. "Honestly, that's so not necessary," he mumbled. "Besides… you lost the case."

"No, I didn't lose the case. It was ruled a mistrial and then I fired the client so… my court record technically remains in-tact," Chris said with a laugh.

They all talked and laughed as they finished their drinks and then headed out into the beautiful night air. It was starting to cool off and the air held just a hint of a bite as it blew in from the north. Despite the fact that they took up a huge amount of the sidewalk, they walked hand-in-hand.

Stiles heard a screeching noise and the loud shout of " _Maricones_ _! Van a pagar con sus vidas!"_ before Peter shouted, "Run!" and pushed the other three forward with enough force they all lost their footing, but fell out of the way of the attackers.

It seemed to go in slow motion for Peter. He managed to block a few incoming blows until two more men showed up and pinned him against the wall. In a matter of mere seconds, Peter took blow after blow to his stomach. He thought he caught a glimmer of silver stained with crimson as the blows kept coming, suddenly feeling hot, almost electric. He looked down to see the knives stabbing into his body repeatedly and felt the blood oozing down his front.

"Uncle Peter! No!" Derek screamed as he scrambled to his feet and managed to grab one of the assailants and throw him roughly against a nearby car. A crowd had begun to form and the attackers fled into a vehicle and sped away. Members of the crowd snapped photos of the car and several were frantically dialing 9-1-1.

The part of Peter's shirt that hadn't been shredded was soaked in crimson. His hands instinctively moved to his belly, where all the damage had been sustained as he fell to the ground. A pool of red surrounded him as Derek, Stiles, and Chris rushed to his side, attempting to apply pressure to the wound.

"Peter… baby keep your eyes open. Stay with me," Chris said. " _Fuck!_ Peter, please…"


End file.
